


Welcome Home

by toesohnoes



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-25
Updated: 2011-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doyle isn't alive (again) for more than five minutes before Angel starts ripping off his clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [setos_puppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/setos_puppy/gifts).



Doyle hasn't been back (been alive) for more than five minutes before he finds himself hoisted against a wall with his trousers being carelessly yanked down around his hips. Breath shudders from his chest. He hardly recognises the intent darkness in Angel's eyes, but he recognises the strength of his arms and the needless drama of his coat floating down around their bodies.

"Thought you were gone," Angel mutters, but Doyle can't be sure if the words are even meant for him or if Angel is speaking to himself, to the Gods, to the Powers. "Thought I'd lost you."

"I'm back," Doyle assures him. Cool air brushes over the bared skin of his ass and thighs, leaving Angel's hand to sweep down and explore what has been exposed. Doyle groans, back arching, hardly able to process what is going on. To him, a mere five minutes have passed. One moment he had been sacrificing himself, burning up in an unholy light; now, he's slammed against the wall with Angel between his thighs, Angel's fingers dipping between the cheeks of his arse. "Think I died. This is heaven, right?"

Angel doesn't even laugh. Doesn't smile. Doesn't seem to hear him at all. He pulls his hand back from where he had been exploring and holds Doyle up with only one arm and the weight of his body. Spitting onto his fingers, visceral and all too real, he soon reaches down once more, his fingers sliding between Doyle's cheeks and spreading him open, blunt and dry despite the saliva that is there to ease the way. It doesn't do nearly enough.

Doyle winces and bites down on his bottom lip as Angel stretches him open. He's aware of the way that Angel is staring at him, almost angry in its intensity; he wants to ask just how long he's been gone, just how long has passed. Angel is a vampire - it could have been years, could have been centuries. The building they are in is old and broken-down, but that doesn't tell him anything at all. It could be any time.

Angel slides his fingers in and out of Doyle's hole, watching every single flickering reaction as if there is nothing else sweeter in the world, as if there is nothing that is as important as watching Doyle squirm. Two fingers alone feel huge, Angel's bloody man-hands larger than necessary, but that's nothing compared to how it feels when he squeezes a third inside as well. Doyle hears a pained whine escaping from between clenched teeth but he refuses to acknowledge it, as if that might be all that it took to escape.

"Angel," he said. "Angel, shouldn't we think about this? The curse, I mean - your soul."

Angel shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. I won't lose it."

He makes himself sound so certain that it's impossible to argue with him. With Angel's fingers crooking inside him, stroking and searching, it's impossible to even remember why he would ever want to argue in the first place.

"You're ready," Angel declares, ripping his fingers from him with a speed that makes Doyle wince.

There's no time to think, no time for second thoughts, no time to even breathe before Angel rips his own trousers forward. Another spit into his hand to slick up his cock is all it takes before Angel is pushing forward, aligning himself with Doyle and pushing in, pushing up, as Doyle sinks down onto the thick meat of Angel's length.

It steals the air from his lungs, stretching and burning and stinging. He thrashes unwillingly, every instinct in his body telling him to get away - even though it's Angel, even though he's safe. He must be safe; he has to be.

He wants to believe that he can still trust Angel, no matter how much time has passed.

Angel holds him in place and grunts in satisfaction as he sinks all the way in, as deep as he can get. Doyle pants for air as Angel fills him, but there's hardly time to adjust before Angel starts moving again, fucking him with vital urgency, as if there's nothing more important in the world than taking Doyle, than letting him know how missed he's been. Doyle grasps hold of Angel's shoulders, clinging onto his body for any leverage he can get while Angel plays his body so easily, as if he knows how to make Doyle come apart even better than Doyle does himself.

Every thrust is accompanied by a grunt of effort. Doyle feels as if he's being ripped apart, but as Angel reaches for his stiff cock and wraps his hand around it, it is suddenly the best feeling in the world, brighter than anything else he could have imagined. He clutches Angel's body and tries to bring himself closer to him, tries to grind down against the cock in his ass. He wants more of whatever Angel can give him, more, just more.

Angel obliges easily, thrusting into him so hard that there is no chance of Doyle walking easily for the next few days. It aches and it's perfect, so perfect; it's what he's been wanting since the moment he received his first vision of Angel, even if he hadn't known it at the time.

Angel's hand jerks his cock at an unreal speed, until Doyle's body finally shudders and gives up, spilling his seed between the pair of them. Angel growls and crushes their mouths together, thrusting his tongue deep into Doyle's slack mouth. His eyes are closed, but he would swear he can feel the sharpness of Angel's fangs against him and he knows that if he opened his eyes it wouldn't be Angel's human face he would be faced with.

When Angel finally comes with a grunt, it takes them a moment to piece their minds together once more. It's too difficult to work out what's happening or what brought that on; Doyle knows that he's got one hell of a lot of catching up to do.

Even if that's the case, there's no denying that this was one hell of a 'welcome back to life' celebration.


End file.
